Advertisement
Published: January 25th 2006
unedited!.....no spelll check!......no grammmer review!
The Hotel Alka is tres propre and has a fine vegetarian kitchen! The cows and buffalo parade past the front door, the monkeys swing from the trees above the dining terrace, the dogs howl wether there is a moon or not and the goats bounce up and down the river steps. But no viande to be foound on the diner plate! Lots of buffalo cheese, curd and milk ... looks like one percent .... legumes, pan and veggies ... and beer!
The arrival at six o'clock in the morning went without a hitch, (a hotel employee was there to meet us ...that way we avoided all the hasslers and the hotel does not give commissions) ........ until we got into the autorickshaw. For 45 minutes we bounced along a flat country road headed for Varanasi. We passed sleeping stalll tenders, closed shops, and a huge smelly flat landfill site. The fill seemed mostley made up of plastic bags. No animal was wandering upon it so it must be pretty empty of anything edible. We ahve the pleasurte of once more viewing this site when we return to the same train station Mugail Serai(sic) to take the trainthe afternoon -overnight train to NJP and Daejeeling..... back into the cold just one more time.
The hotel was a lovely surprise and made our four night/five day stay in VAranasi very pleasant. All the rooms are filled all the time. We had to wait on the restaurant terrace until 12:00 ... that is check out time. We occupied ourselves with watching the men in underwear, propel away the debris at the foot of the ghats(steps), plunge three times into Mother Ganges, take a 'healing' drink, proceed to bathe their bodies with soap and then wash their scarves and other big clothes if they were dressed traditionally or drape a flimsy cloth around their lower body to change the wet underwear for dry and then wash that thin cloth and continue dressing into their street clothes ready for work. There are more p[eople in the morning than in the evening taking these ritual bathes but one can see some people all day long.
Women participate a bit removed from the men but on the same step and their covering clothe is bigger being fastened above the breasts, clinging to the body and removed for the traditional saree. SArees are also washed and spreaad out on the steps to dry. This happens quickly in the sun.
Walking about in the market gives a grreat insite into the place. along the Ghats just below the Hotel there are innumerable hawkers sellin; postcards, boat rides, glass beads strung or unstrung, little lamps to set afloat in the dark on the river, little paint jars and stamps to adorn oneself, shoeshine opportunities, guides to anywhere you want to go and advice about what not to do when you geet to the cremation site.
The only things missing on the ghat aare the bicycly and auto rickshaws. They assail you as soon as you go up the steps past the older generation of beggars and enter the market street. Here it must be notted that although thare are many indians in view doing their shopping, tourists are inflicted with a tourist price.
I watched a small boy getting about 6small red onions, a big bunch of coriander and a big handful of chillis for less that 2 rupees. I paid 5 rupees for three cucumbers abnd 30 rupees for 3 oranges. I got a small bunch of chillies for 2 rupees. The biggest scam was when I wanted to by custard apple fruit and the vendor wanted 50 rupees for three justifying that they were big ones .... I left him in the dust ...no pun intended!
Varanasi was not a disappointment. WAlking through the streets was 'interesting'. Watching where one places ones foot is paramount to looking at the view. Cows are always to be seen. The buffaloo are tied up because they are milked. This is the milk drunk in the morning coffee or chai, tea leaves boiled in more milk than water and having sugar added. Apparantly cows milk is too expensive.
Inthe morning went to the ccentral Ppost Office. Said goodbye to George from Capetownn S.A. got a bicycle rickshaw and wwere of on a magical horro ride to through the town to the package seller and then the past officce across the street. Rs1500 later was rid of old clothes and new cloth purchases and a deep copper bowl of glass beads.
The ride was so exciting I had to make videos of our lack of progress. We were caught in a humongous traffic jam with everything trying to get past and everyone pushing through the tiniest space. Many wheels became locked, gas fumes caused coughing seizures and pedestrians squeezzed by often climbing over wheels, under canopies and around motorbikes.
The sewing man used the smallest amount of material and pulled and tugged until it fit. I had to fill in a piece of paper for each packet. It is coming by sea. Hope it gets to where it is supposed to be going.
When walking did not wander too far into the winding warren of streets but were able to find our way about nicely and even employed shortcuts to get back to the hotel.
After seeing how the boats were built from reclaimed and recycled pieces of old boat I decided that a boat ride on the Ganges was not for me. Some boats had almost 30 people in thaem and they aer only shallow little things....no lifejackets in sight..... no no not for me!!
I have pictures of the tools used to make the boats. All old hand tools and all used without one thought to safety equipment. As all other skilled and unskilled jobs seen done here the men are dressed in their own clothes, have mostly flip flops on their feet and no safety glasses of any kind. I saw one man chipping away cement from the side of a doorway because the site was being renovated into a hotewl. As he chipped away the CocaCola sign his only protection from the flying cement chips was a cloth to covering his hair. Outside our balcony room a new building is being erected. The men are climbing across four inch slats of wood in only plastic slip-ons. The man carrying 16 bricks at a time into the new building has a heaad ring to place the bricks on but is walking in slip-ons and has no gloves for picking up the bricks and has no fingers on one hand to boot.
The view of the GAnges is splendid if one avoids the collection of refuse near the shore.... dead marigoldds, inflated plastic bags, cow dung, goat pebbles, monkey sausages, human nigfht deposits and urine from all four. The steps are swept and all is directed down into the water.
Yesterday evening I watched as a house/hotel? owner rigged up an electrical line with a plug at the end to run from his balcony over the heads of passing people to the bottom step of the ghat where a small pump was waiting to be attached to the mauve water hose that also ran from the building down to the bottom step. Once at the bottom the water hose was attached to the pump, which had a small filter-ended hose stuck into the Ganges attached to it and then the pump was plugged unto the electrical outlet. Now the small pump was filling a tank with Ganges water .... to be used in the kitchen? to be used as shower and flushing water? to be used to do laundry? who knows .... not my hotel and at my hotel I am not looking for a mauve waterhose!!
I have been very happy to wash my clothes each evening and hang it onto my dollar store line. Yesterday Ipicked up an outfit I ordered to be sewn. It is burnt orange, lose and fits well although I do look a bit like a overripe tropical fruit.
Have meet a friendly glass jewel seller, Rita, who has four children, the girl being in grade 7. I wrote down information about Igloos for her class project had tea and a deep fried something good and came back to the hotel to eat dinner with Wwendy who passed on the visit to Rita.
During the night I visited the throne more than once. Wendy had been suffering from the same affliction all the past day. Can you get the S>>>s from touching door handles and sink faucets? Personnally I belive my body has cleaned itself out and that's the end of it. I will eat little today. I do not mind the crouch toilet on the train for small jobs but a big job is too much of a hasssle for me. Anyway there is no toilet paper in the crouch toilet on the train. Wendy goes to the 'western 'toooilet. Have to ask her if there is toilet paper.
Eleven o'clock...the temple bells are ringing ....they for 15 minutes at 4:00 in the morning ....everymorning..... chechout time is 12 and I hope my laundry is dry!!
Advertisement
Tot: 0.068s; Tpl: 0.009s; cc: 9; qc: 23; dbt: 0.0413s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1mb
Carole
non-member comment
SPELLBINDING JOURNAL
What a brave duo! Thinking of you Wendy and what a combo of agony and ecstacy this adventure must be. What amazing memories! Keep writing and keep safe. Ah, Sudbury has become so mundane compared to this!